A Romp Through Midsummer
by Saroko Phoenix
Summary: Armend Ratula loves to document the stories of pokemon trainers. When he gets the chance to meet the trainer known as the Witch, however, he quickly realizes that he's bitten off more than he can chew. Plus a bunch of wild pokemon seem to want them both dead. Can a trainer who'd rather run away than fight live long enough to get any answers?
1. How to Meet a Witch

** Hello, Everyone. It's been a very long time since I've actually submitted anything to FF, but I've recently gotten this urge to try writing again. Mostly a lot of Pokemon stuff, but I've been doing that for a while now, so I think I've gotten practice…But more explanation on that later. In the meantime, enjoy. 8)**

**Note:**

"Quotes mean someone's talking," '_Italics and single quotes mean thought,'_** [Bold in brackets mean typing in the computer,]** and these arrow things mean translated Pokespeak.

(o)

"Holy shit, man! Who did that to you?"

"Ugh…You know the witch everyone's been talking about? I found him."

"No way! Didn't you use your pokemon?"

"Yes! And he used his!"

Armend Ratoula peeked over his shoulder at the two young men at the PokeCenter counter. Both were around thirteen years old and dressed in the usual trainer attire, complete with pokeball carrying belts. One, however, looked like he had been on the other end of a rhyhorn's Take Down attack. His face was swollen with bruises, blood dribbled from a cut on his lip, and one of his fingers was twisted oddly. He was leaning on his buddy who was smiling, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from the broken finger. "So…I guess he's as brutal as they say he is," he laughed. The injured trainer shot him a glare as the nurse came to look him over.

Armend tried to listen for more details on the mysterious witch, but the two boys were more preoccupied with the nurse, and he couldn't get between her and them until she was done either. With a heavy sigh, he dropped back into his supine position on the couch and continued to type on his white, sticker-clad laptop.

For the past few days, word of the witch had been circulated between trainers ever since he first came to Eterna City, and there had been sightings as far as Sunnyshore. It wasn't just trainers who wanted him, police wanted him too for the same reason: he was a trainer who literally fought alongside his pokemon. Actually went and attacked enemy pokemon with his bare hands and everything!

Physical participation in pokemon battles was rare and highly illegal due to how dangerous such battling can be. Even young, low-level pokemon could easily harm a human. Actually fighting them head on was unheard of except for select groups of authorized trainers, and even they only fought with their pokemon during tournaments. A trainer who did this on a regular basis and lived was a challenge no other trainer could pass up.

Armend's laptop made a soft ping as a message replied on the chat room. [C-Box: Or ambulance chasers like you for that matter!] The boy winced. He didn't realize he had been gushing over a likely story again.

** [C-Box: Who the Hell goes on a pokemon journey just to blog about other peoples' journeys?]**

** [C-Box: Oh. I'm sorry. 'Record' other journeys, reporter.]**

** [C-Box: Can this even count as a 'Pokemon' journey anymore? You never battle. You only taught the others how to run and save your ass.]**

** [C-Box: I don't even know how you got a team at all! You-]**

** [C-Box: Spiral eyed (btw Genetics! How do they work!?),]**

** [C-Box: Crappy sweater wearing,]**

** [C-Box: Dead zigzagoon hair,]**

** [A-Man: THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY HAIR! D8]**

** [C-Box: Skirt chasing,]**

** [A-Man: FQ]**

** [C-Box: Are you kidding? It's either a dead zigzagoon with a skinned tail, or you're rocking a spikey afro with a loose string and KILLING it. I'd go with the pokemon.]**

** [C-Box: U can always say it's sleeping.]**

** [A-Man: I'm shutting down.]**

** [C-Box: Ok! Ok! Ok! -_-]**

** [A-Man: So did you find anything about the witch or not?]**

** [C-Box: Plenty. And people still complain about cameras in pokegear.]**

** [C-Box: But. No street address.]**

** [A-Man: Shit! ]** Armend's hands dropped to his sides, and he glared at the screen as C-Box hurled some more abuse. What was happening to the internet? Didn't people care about exact information anymore?

He pushed himself up again.

And then he straightened himself up so fast he almost knocked his computer off his lap. The nurse and the boy with the broken finger were gone, but his friend remained.

There wasn't much time to prepare a proper speech or tell C-Box. Shutting his computer closed, he vaulted himself over the couch and took large, quick steps to his destination. The younger looked up at the sound of Armend's footsteps and was greeted with a massive grin and shining, spiral eyes.

"Hello! Can you tell me more about the witch and where I can find him?"

(o)

Cars and motorcycles honked at him as they went past. Pokemon barked and even tried to chase them. People on the streets dove out of their way and shouted obscenities. Armend and his doduo paid them no mind.

Riding on top of Dial-Up bareback, he spurred the two-headed bird to go faster, and she complied with eagerness despite the blue anklet weighing her down. Her trainer rarely let her move so fast in such a crowded area, but news of the witch had even him throwing caution to the winds. And she was going to enjoy it! With a cry she leaped over a stunned passerby's head and was across the street before he had even turned it.

"WOAH! WOAH WOAH, GIRL!" Armend screamed in a high octave while clutching the bird and his yellow shoulder bag for dear life. "I DON'T WANT TO MEET THE WITCH AS A SMEAR! TAKE IT DOWN A NOTCH!" Ok. So the news didn't make him _completely _reckless.

They turned down another lane, and Armend's fear gave way to excitement again. This place seemed to match the internet photos perfectly! It was just a cluster of houses and small businesses bunched together. There were absolutely none of Eterna City's usual landmarks; therefore devoid of any way to find the Witch normally. If people hadn't claimed they had met him in _this very city_ on _this very day_ Armend would never have known.

He craned his neck for any signs of battle, but everything looked normal. Urging Dial-Up on, they tried another street. This one looked normal too. Armend chewed on his lower lip. Maybe the next street?

A loud crash and a bang. In an example of the bonds between human and pokemon, Armend and Dial-Ups' heads swiveled in the direction of the noise. Armend didn't need to tell her what to do. Dial-Up sprinted in the correct direction, and her trainer's smile returned.

A wall of people interrupted their progress. From his vantage point on the tall pokemon's back, Armend could make out figures at the center of the crowd. One even seemed to be hurling floating bricks at the others. The sight had Armend bouncing with excitement.

Which, sadly, dampened Dial-Up's eagerness. A mount pokemon she was, but no one liked being treated like a trampoline. Both heads, for effect, turned to give their rider a nasty glare that stiffened him right up. "Heh, sorry, Dial," he mumbled with an apologetic smile.

The apology was accepted and she pushed through the crowd.

The people parted easily enough. Being taller than any of them helped, and no one wanted to deal with something with two heads and two very sharp beaks that jabbed them in the back. In no time, Armend and Dial-Up were at the center of the ring witnessing the match with their own eyes and not just someone else's camera lenses.

There were two humans, a nosepass, and a stunky in the clearing. The first trainer was older than the teenage Armend by at least five years. His green hair stuck out in many directions at once. He was dressed all in leather suggesting he was a motorcyclist or something along those lines, but he didn't seem to be very tough now. He was breathing heavily and was covered in scrapes.

And then there was the witch himself.

He was no more than fifteen or taller than five-six. He wore a simple blue t-shirt, grey jeans, and sneakers; all very casual even if they did look dirty from all of the fighting. Around his neck, hanging like a necklace, was a pokeball, and his hair was a vivid red that framed his face.

But that was as much of the boy Armend could see. Sitting on his head was the reason behind the witch's namesake: an actual witch's hat. It wasn't the black, pointy kind you see in movies, although it did look like it could stand up at one time. It was made of some kind of brown leather and was clearly old. Even as the Witch moved, Armend could see the cracks and wrinkles forming across the hat's surface. It was almost silly looking, if it weren't for the fact that its huge rim almost completely obscured the Witch's face. Between the hat and the hair, all Armend could make out was the Witch's nose and a hard, thin mouth. No eyes. No emotion. No features.

No mercy.

The green haired biker opened his mouth to shout a command, but the witch got to him first. In a blur of motion, his collided with the biker's jaw. As an added insult, the Witch then swung his leg into the older man's ribs. With a THUMP the biker hit the floor still awake and crying out in pain.

Alarmed, the nosepass spun around in confusion. His trainer was writhing on the ground and couldn't give commands. But it was still in battle, so he couldn't leave the fight either. The poor rock pokemon just didn't know what to do at all.

The stunky, however, had no such hesitations. She shot at the Compass Pokemon like a little purple arrow. Her claws stretched themselves out and became pitch black as a smog of purple, dark energy warped around them. The stunky's Night Slash sliced through the nosepass' rocky frame leaving a hideous crack on its famed nose. Completely stunned and unable to process that much pain, the nosepass wobbled on its legs a bit, and then fell to the floor. Neither he nor his trainer got up.

It wasn't until the echo of the nosepass' faint dissipated that Armend realized that he probably was making the same kind of face the rock pokemon was when it realized it was hit. Looking around he was relieved to find that he wasn't the only one. The entire crowd and even Dial-Up had gone numb from shock at the ruthless display of battling.

The silence hung on everyone; no one except the stunky dared to break it. The small skunk was celebrating with a victory dance and the occasional spout of flames into the air from her mouth.

Her trainer was quiet, but he was no better. No! Scratch that! To Armend he looked completely at ease. Even bored as he ignored his fallen opponents and his stunkies' celebration. He looked at the crowd, probably even met each of their eyes as he spoke for the first time since Armend arrived.

"Who's next?"

(o)

** So be honest, how was that everyone? The Witch and Armend are characters I've been writing about for a long time now, but I've been looking forward to writing this particular story. If the descriptions about their appearance make no sense I do apologize. Physical appearance is a hard thing to get in writing for me. So many details…**

** If any one of them make no sense to you, my avatar should provide an ample image of them. That and my DA page though I wouldn't recommend that due to spoiler alerts.**

** Anyway, see you next time.**


	2. How to Get Knee Deep in Trouble

Normally after a ruthless display of power the crowd watching go into a shocked silence, but Armend seemed to be the only one willing to comply. Around him people were muttering to each other. Some were quietly arguing about whether they go first and others actively encouraged someone else to go before them. One brave soul, admittedly a very twitchy, scared out of his wits soul but a brave soul nonetheless, broke away to drag the biker and his nosepass back into the safe wall of astonished people. The Witch and his stunky didn't even seem to notice.

Finally, someone strode boldly into the clearing with one hand clenching a great ball. The man didn't seem much older than The Witch, but he was a lot bulkier compared to the lean red-head. He was dressed in casual but tight, black clothes. No matter how Armend looked at this man he just screamed 'Tough-As-A-Brick.'

With a flick of his wrist, Brick Man tossed the great ball, and the orb burst open with a flash of white light. Like lighting it sped towards the ground before pooling and condensing into a more solid shape. When the glow faded, it revealed an aron scraping the pavement with one of its stubby arms. Together, brick and steel-type crouched into fighting stance.

The stunky chattered to herself in delight at the show of bravado and settled into her own battle pose. The Witch, however, was staring at the man and aron and rubbing his chin in thought. "Ammonia," he suddenly ordered. "Sit this one out."

The stunky, apparently named 'Ammonia,' shot her owner a perplexed look. He met it with an equally stern gaze, or at least Armend guessed he met it. A silent battle of wills clashed for a brief moment, but the stunky was the first to back down. She let out a long disappointed sigh, kicked a pebble out of the way, and stomped towards the crowd to join as another spectator.

From his pocket, The Witch pulled out a regular pokeball and tossed it. Like before, a shot of light burst out. This time, however, it seemed to widen in shape and size even before it reached the ground. This time an enormous swampert appeared blinking from the light show.

And immediately the crowd booed.

Armend almost jumped off Dial-Up's back. When the new challenger appeared, everyone had kept their conversations to a minimum. Now everywhere he looked he saw some serious disappointment and fury on their faces. He didn't blame them. After all an aron against a swampert? Sure it was a smart switch on The Witch's part, but no one wants to see smart in a back alley street battle. Pure power and stunning matches! That was why people wanted to see The Witch in the first place!

"TYPE ENFORCER!"

"HACK!"

"CHEATER!"

"Jeez. Ugly crowd," Armend muttered to Dial-Up. The twin headed bird nodded.

If The Witch heard any of them, though, he didn't pay any attention. He was fixed on his swampert. Almost expectant even.

The amphibious pokemon itself was very much affected, however. He swiveled his head around trying to make sense of what was going on while rubbing the sleep from his black eyes. When he noticed the brick and his aron though he stopped. Then a dawn of comprehension flashed on his face and he caught up with the rest of the world. A toothless grin split across his face as he looked at his opponent. Evidently he recognized the disadvantage as well and he was outright cheerful over it. Hell, he seemed _overjoyed_! With no other warning but for a sudden inflation of his orange cheeks, the mud fish pokemon unleashed a concentrated stream of water at the aron!

Which was promptly blocked by the steel-type's Protect….

…Welp. Shit…

The aron lowered his head and started to charge the startled amphibian. His Iron Head attack smacked into the swampert's foot, and Armend guessed that the bigger pokemon must've jumped five feet into the air screaming like a little girl. Collapsing on his side, he rolled around on the floor holding his foot crying before crawling over to hide behind his trainer as best as his bulky frame allowed. The Witch let out an audible sigh of disappointment. His stunky was holding her shaking her head in both front paws. The crowd stopped booing and stared at the sight in shock.

...On second thought, maybe there was a reason why The Witch had picked that swampert for this particular fight.

Ignoring his pokemon's whining The Witch grabbed the swampert by his head fin and hauled him up to eye level. Judging from the amphibian's fresh tears, his grip wasn't particularly gentle either. "When an opponent hits you," he said in a lecturing tone, anger _just_ barely constrained. "Rolling around crying gives them an opening to attack again, when they're being smart." At the last remark he shot a glare at the aron before returning to his subject. "And if you know you're going to react poorly in the first place then you could've used Protect yourself!" With a snarl of disgust he let go, and the swampert dropped onto his stomach no longer crying and glaring back.

Brick (and the audience too for that matter) was blinking in stunned surprise at the spectacle but recovered enough when it finally dawned that The Witch was actually ignoring him. "Aron! Screech attack!" he ordered. Acting instantly at the command the small steel-type threw back his head, and an armor-piercing scream the likes of which _shouldn't _be physically possible for such a small creature came out of his mouth.

Armend's hands flew up to his ears as Dial-Up pressed her heads together both in an attempt to ward off the sound. The Witch and his swampert weren't faring any better, both visibly wincing in pain as the sound of a thousand nails being scrapped against a chalkboard assaulted them. Brick allowed a leering grin as he gave another command, one Armend could not hear. The aron stopped screaming to lower his head again and charge at the defenseless swampert.

The Witch, however, was not as defenseless. Seeing the tiny pokemon charging at his pokemon like a large bullet, the human swung his leg in retaliation. The aron's attack connected with The Witch's shin, and a crack rattled through the air making Armend suck in his breath in sympathy pain. Humans don't just _kick_ charging steel-types, and for a moment it seemed that time had frozen right at the moment of impact in his eyes. When the world moved again, the aron had actually been forced back. And The Witch…

He was still standing.

And he was _running_. Towards Brick, that is, with a fist raised. He even stepped on the aron along the way.

"Aron! Metal Cla-AUCK!" The Witch's punch cut Brick's command short, and the large man staggered back clutching his nose. Before he could recover, another punch, this time to the gut, had him doubling over winded.

With his trainer incapacitated, the aron was left not knowing what to do without his human's orders. His earlier bravado was quickly vanishing, and all the pokemon could do was shoot confused looks at the humans, then the swampert, and then the humans again.

The swampert was not so indecisive. Picking up on his opponent's confusion, he hauled himself into an upright position and let his orange cheeks inflate again. With a sickening, wet cough he spat out a gigantic ball of mud that practically submerged the smaller pokemon. Crying in protest, the aron was left to dig itself out.

Match over. Witch: Two. Brick: Zip.

A few half-hearted cheers erupted from the crowd, and, like the stunky, the swampert ate up the attention. And like before, The Witch didn't seem to give a damn, striding over towards his swampert with another withering glare. Armend could only guess at what he was going to do to that swampert.

The growing sound of a siren cut off anymore cheers, however. From his considerably high perch on Dial-Up, Armend could see the police motorcycle driving up from over the crowd. The policewoman riding it pulled out a megaphone "OK! BREAK IT UP, PEOPLE!" she commanded, her voice booming. "YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST FOR DISTURBING THE PIECE AND PARTICIPATING IN ILLEGAL BACK-ALLEY POKEMON BATTLES! SURRENDER PEACEFULLY NOW!"

In a frenzied panic, the crowd promptly began to _un-peacefully_ resist arrest, Armend included. Watching The Witch battle might have been one thing, but he didn't come here to get arrested! He was an innocent bystander! Hell, he was a member of the press! He knew things were different outside of Unova, but Sinnoh had to have _some_ version of the First Amendment, right?

Pushing the doduo to move, they tried to navigate through the swarm escapees without getting knocked around or tripped up. The once bunched together rows of heads were quickly dispelling, leaving room to maneuver the further they got from the busy officer. And it was only through blind luck that Armend managed to catch sight of The Witch as he too broke away. Neither of his pokemon were with him, most likely beamed back into their pokeballs when he joined in the get-away. With a quick heel turn, he disappeared again down another road.

Narrowing his eyes, Armend directed Dial-Up in The Witch's direction. After what he'd seen he wasn't giving up that easily.

(o)

Armend was about to give up. Things were just so much harder now.

Originally confident that Dial-Up could catch up to The Witch easily, Armend had opted to continue riding on her. Doduo's are very well regarded for their break neck speed after all, but unfortunately doduo's were built for running across flat plains and savannahs. _Not_ a city with every damn obstacle constantly getting in their way! In the past hour since they escaped the police, Dial-Up had done more climbing than running-over fences, small buildings, on and off fire escapes- because, of course, The Witch turned out to be a fricken' _pakour master_!

Gripping the bird's chest so that he wouldn't get bucked off from yet another jump, Armend cracked an eye open. The Witch was finally slowing down. He was a few yards away, further than Armend would have liked, but that was probably for the best since he didn't seem to realize that he had been followed. As calm as ever, he casually disappeared down another corner while fiddling with the pokeball around his neck.

Armend swung himself off Dial-Up's back and had to catch himself before his weakened knees gave out underneath him. With a squawk of a head, Dial-Up fretted a bit in concern, but Armend waved it off. "Just a bit wobbly," he said with a reassuring tone before zapping her back into her pokeball. He didn't want The Witch to think that he wanted to battle after all. Thinking of the earlier fights Armend shuddered. _"Nope. I don't wanna fight at all."_

Straightening himself up and letting his face break into a friendly grin, Armend strode as boldly as he could down the same corner.

He was immediately greeted with a pair of hands grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him onto the wall, knocking the breath out of him. "Who the hell are you?" The Witch growled pressing his fists deeper onto Armend's ribs.

Somewhere Armend knew that fate was laughing at him.

(o)

**Hello, Everyone. Are you surprised? I apologize for not posting this sooner. I got wrapped up in Finals and Christmas. Anyway, Armend has now officially come into contact with The Witch and it may be his last if he's not careful. Never trust a guy who can walk away after kicking an aron.**

**Anyway, there's going to be a lot of characters in this fic. Most of them being pokemon. The story itself is going to focus more on Armend and The Witch, but I would like to leave profiles of the pokemon characters as they appear just for you guys to get to know them and call me out on any mistakes I make (aren't I swell?). I may make ones for the human characters too if anyone wants more details about them.**

**Keep in mind that I do not follow the standard 'four move limit.' Pokemon can learn and use as many moves as they want. They can all be verified on Bulbapedia.**

**(o)**

**Name: Dial-Up**

**Species: Doduo**

**Gender: Female**

**Trainer: Armend Ratoula**

**Hold Item: Power Anklet**

**Moves: Quick Attack, Peck, Growl, Pursuit, Fury Attack, Pursuit, Uproar, Agility, Rage, Double Hit, Agility, Fly, Protect**

**Bio: One of Armend's first pokemon, Dial-Up is often relied on as his main method of transportation and escape from hostile enemies. However, Dial-Up would much rather be trained to fight back which leaves her often dismayed since her trainer foes out of his way to avoid battles. Despite this, she remains dutifully loyal to him regardless of her frustrations. When Armend first rode her, he was scared by her speed and got her to wear a Power Anklet a trainer gave him to cut her speed without hindering her. He has no idea what it is or its effects believing it to just be a pretty weight. **


	3. How to Sell Your Soul

Fumbling desperately to get out of The Witch's grasp, Armend tried to pull the red head's closed fists away to no avail. Snarling angrily, The Witch shoved him against the brick wall again; pain forcing Armend to shut his eyes in an attempt to hold back tears. "I said 'Who the Hell are you?'" The Witch repeated.

"A-Armend," Armend managed to splutter out. Another violent shaking 'encouraged' him to say more. "Armend Ratoula! Fifteen years old! I'm from Unova! I'm just a journalist! PLEASEOHARCEUSDON'THURTME! I JUSTWANNAINTERVIEW!"

Armend panted for breath in panic unable to tear his eyes away from his glaring attacker. Or, at least, Armend thought that he could be glaring. That damn hat made The Witch's expressions impossible to tell even from this close distance. And somehow that just made the situation even worse.

Armend kept as still as he could, stewing inwardly over whatever fate The Witch was planning. He was in the middle of a scenario involving dumpsters when, miraculously, the red-head let go, allowing Armend to drop to his wobbly knees. A cold wave of relief swept across Armend's entire body, and he gulped in lungful after lungful of air in an effort to get his hammering heart under control. Meanwhile, his mind struggled to keep up as he slowly realized that he was not going to 'disappear' anytime soon. He even thought he could hear a heavenly choir in the background.

A quiet snort brought Armend crashing back to reality. Remembering that he was still in immediate danger Armend lifted his eyes to meet The Witch's shrouded face.

The Witch had already turned to leave.

"H-Hey! Wait a minute!" Armend shouted, stumbling to get up and chase after the boy against his (screaming) better judgment. He trotted behind The Witch and fumbled to pull out a recording device from his bag. "So…uh. I was hoping to post a story about you on my blog. It's kind of a thing I do. Get other trainer's stories and…write about them. Journalism and all that?" He gave a nervous laugh, but The Witch hadn't even turned to look at him. Armend cleared his throat.

"Anyway…not a whole lot of people know much about you. Hah hah. I mean, I don't even know you're name, and there's a lot of rumors about you. It'd be nice if you could…uh…clear them up a bit? Ya know? Like, say, I heard you were involved in some sort incident at Fortree? And there's one about a _really_ big fight at a circus where you, uh, _allegedly_ killed a clown, and everyone thought it was part of the show. Or maybe why you dangled that one guy off a five-story building by the legs?"

"That story gets distorted every time," The Witch responded with a huff.

Armend broke into a wide grin. _"Finally! A bit of progress!"_

"It was an eight-story building."

"…Yeah…so…does this mean that you'll-"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"It would-"

"Do I have to shove you _through_ you a wall this time?"

"NO! Sorry! I mean no." Armend rubbed the back of his head, the weight of disappointment mixed with nervousness causing him to hang his head low. Just where precisely had he blown it? He knew he had sounded like an idiot especially about the rumors. Or was it when he admitted that the interview would be for a blog. Nobody wanted to tell their life story for a teen-ager's _blog_. He thought that word in disgust and scolded himself for not at least pretending he was writing for something a little more official sounding.

He took a peek of The Witch's face. The boy, in turn, continued to stare straight ahead for whatever his intended destination was. Again Armend tried and failed to detect any sign of emotion but at least he didn't see the usual signs of annoyance. That could've been a good sign, right?

Armend tried plucking his courage up for another try. He wasn't about to let someone like The Witch get by him. Sure the kid may not have been some big name trainer like Sabrina or Lance, but people acquainted with the name always spoke it with a shudder and hushed whisper. Plus, he was by far the most mysterious, and Armend could not pass up being the first to solve him.

"If-"

"I don't _like_ journalists."

Armend shut his mouth again. Ok, so it was his profession that was the problem; not him! Maybe he could still smooth this over then. "I-I know we have a tendency to write from our own point of view, but I assure you I'm not like that."

"No. You're just a crappy one." The Witch said. Armend winced from the insult, but The Witch continued unforgiving. "I mean, what can of journalist doesn't even get the name of his subject?"

"How on Earth could I get your name?" Armend protested in an attempt to salvage a bit of pride.

"You got every rumor and tall tale about me including the Fortree event, right?" Armend slowly nodded. "That last one should've used it in the news. Didn't you notice?"

"Uh…" Armend fiddled with the since found recording device, happy he hadn't turned it on. "It was in Hoennese. I tried Google Translate, but…you know…Google Translate."

"Thank you for making my point," The Witch replied. Armend did not miss the sarcasm either. "Hence, crappy journalist. Which I dislike even more, actually."

"Well, I don't like weirdoes with mysteries and crappy hats!"

Armend immediately clamped his hand over his mouth and froze. He hadn't meant to burst like that! Immediately the bruises on his shoulders began to throb, and Armend shrinked back in terror.

The Witch stopped as well and looked back at Armend for the first time since the attack at the alley. He stared at Armend for a bit, terrifying the boy to no end, before cocking his head. Armend couldn't help but notice his mouth tighten into a thin line. Was he frowning? The shadowed eyes were really starting to piss Armend off underneath the mortal terror.

The Witch let out a sigh at last and broke contact, suddenly finding the pokeball around his neck more interesting. "How determined are you to get a story out of me?"

Swallowing hard lest he say something truly stupid again, Armend peeled his hand off his face to speak. "V-very," he responded. A simple answer seemed to be the best idea.

The Witch didn't reply back; instead continuing to fiddle with the pokeball as he seemed to think. Armend tried to focus on the capsule and observed, for the first time, something rubbery and yellow around the seal. Glue?

"I'll tell you what." The Witch's voice snapped Armend out of his study. "I'll answer your questions if you manage to impress me first. I want you to learn something about me."

The Witch paused a bit to let his request sink in. Armend's brow shifted in confusion as he struggled to process the logic. "But…I could just always ask you-"

"I _hate_ giving people things they haven't earned," The Witch snarled making Armend cringe immediately. "And if I'm going to spill any details about my personal life to someone they had damn well better be good."

The Witch lifted a finger between himself and Armend. "First rule: For every detail you learn about me, I'll answer one question. Second." The Witch held up another finger. "You can get this information any way you please short of asking me. You can observe me, check my pokegear calls; get my birth certificate. I honestly don't give a crap. And third." He held up a third finger to stand alongside the other two. "Whatever you learned about me so far does not count towards this. You technically already know, so there's no point."

The Witch let his hand drop to his side. "Do we have a deal?"

Armend internally reeled. This was just too sudden and weird for him. Who on Earth just goes and makes bets like that? It was just completely out of the blue! Not to mention creepy since his tone had been completely monotone the whole time. Did The Witch really think Armend was so desperate that he would accept something so outlandish?

"…"

"…"

"…Deal."

(o)

Staying at the PokeCenter was a good idea. Emphasis on 'was.' Past tense. Meaning it was too late to act on it.

Dan let out a loud sigh as he unrolled his sleeping bag. He had thought that he could get through Eterna Forest and into Floaroma Town by the end of the day, but the woods were so thick it had taken him that long just to get to his current campsite: some clearing deep in the middle.

Suddenly 'Cut' didn't seem like such a useless move…

Sensing his master's distress, his buizel rubbed his head and long body against the trainer's legs. Pulled out of his thoughts, Dan looked down and smiled softly at the weasel pokemon; giving it an affectionate rub on the hindquarters. "Guess me frowning isn't going to fix anything, huh, Buizel? Thanks. Want some dinner?"

"Buizel!" The pokemon's head shot up at the word 'dinner,' and his eyes widened, puppy-like, at the chuckling human.

Reaching for his bag, Dan fished his poffin case and pulled out a pink one. Holding it _just_ out of Buizel's reach. The pokemon, excitedly, began alternating between standing on all fours waving his tails to doing a little dance on his back legs. All the while never letting the treat out of his sight for a second.

Of course, this little display was tradition between the trainer and his pokemon. After a moment of well-respected tradition, Buizel leaped up and snatched the poffin from Dan's fingers. Munching on it noisly, the pokemon shoved half of the sweet, sweet pastry into his mouth. Dan, mood significantly higher, laughed.

Both noises of the cheerful campers was cut off, however, by a low buzz they just barely caught. Frowning in confusion, Dan got up and peered into the woods, as if eventually he would be able to see where the source was. Buizel also joined him the wary staring contest, leaving the half-eaten poffin in the grass as he took a fighting stance with both tails raised high. They both turned around in a slow circle, trying to pin point what the buzzing was.

They didn't have to wait too long. A large streak of yellow shot out from the darkness, hurtling towards them and buzzing madly. Dan just managed to see the pokemon coming at them in time to fire off an order. "Buizel! Water Gun!"

The weasel pokemon's cheeks puffed up and he shot a jet of water at their attacker; hitting it squarely in the center and pushing it back. With a wet, weak splutter the aggressor hovered briefly in the air before dropping to earth in a dead faint.

Combees were not very well known for their defensive power after all.

Dan and Buizel stared at the blocky, yellow bug-type for a moment before they each took a cautious step forward. All of the combee's heads were relaxed in unconsciousness and showed no signs of noticing them. Relieved and scolding himself for getting jumpy over a combee, Dan let out a loud sigh and smiled.

Another buzzing sound began.

Dan looked up in alarm. The sound was louder than the combee's and seemed to surround him and Buizel. It seemed to waver and vary in pitch, sometimes higher. Other times it seemed lower. Sometimes both at the same time, but always blending seamlessly together.

Dan felt a hard lump crawl emerge in chest as he realized what that meant.

It wasn't one single buzz.

(o)

**Hello again, everyone! And now that I've said that, let us take a moment of silence for Dan and Buizel as they will never be written about again. Probably for good reason too if that ending means anything. Pokemon world's dangerous ain't it? **

**At least Armend seems to have gotten off ok, though. Could've been worst. At least The Witch isn't saying no after all. Sure he's not being very amicable about it, this sudden bet and all, but it beats everything he was imagining. Plus, The Witch himself gets some proper dialogue and…establishes himself as an ass. XD I do admit, though, I enjoyed writing their banter. I know purely dialogue heavy chapters are frowned on, but having these two characters just go off on each other is fun!**

**So enough about those dorks. What do you guys think of this fic so far? Think I should do something different or what? If it's not apparent yet, I'm trying to make this story as different and fresh as possible for you long time Pokemon readers on this site. After re-reading the last chapter, though, I caught a lot of typos that made me want to beat my head in (I blame 'end-of-the-year' stress). I know I'm a crap writer but that doesn't mean I want my writing to be crap, so feel free to say something if you caught a mistake I made.**

**Hmm. I guess I could do one of my profiles for The Witch's stunky buuuuuut I kinda want to put hers and the swampert's together, and his name hasn't been revealed yet. You'll understand this decision once I've done and written them but hold tight for now.**

**Anyway, press on, Armend. Next chapter will be entirely at your expense.**


End file.
